


A Weasley reunion

by GinIsBetterThanFirewhiskey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Christmas Dinner, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Fluff, Family Reunions, One Big Happy Weasley Family (Harry Potter), Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28274697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinIsBetterThanFirewhiskey/pseuds/GinIsBetterThanFirewhiskey
Summary: The Weasleys had rented a ballroom at the Ministry, one large enough to contain all the Weasleys of the country. According to Ron, it was a tradition of the past to reunite everyone the day before Christmas, one that had lost itself over the years. Now Harry is invited but has doubts that it's really his place to be. Somehow, the evening takes a wild turn he hasn't expected, thanks to Ginny Weasley.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 13
Kudos: 49
Collections: 2020 Hinny Discord Incognito Elf Exchange!





	A Weasley reunion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jenorama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenorama/gifts).



> Written for the Discord Incognito Elf 2020. 
> 
> To Jen with all my love.
> 
> Thanks to Dusk, my amazing beta. I love you.

Checking if his breath was fresh for the tenth time since he’d exited the Ministry floo, Harry thought that if Molly Weasley hadn’t pleaded with him to come here, he would have never, _never_ put himself in such a situation. 

Harry took out a piece of crumpled parchment from his pocket and looked briefly at it, making sure he was going in the right direction. It was the letter Mrs. Weasley sent him this week with all the information concerning the Weasley party he was _obligated_ to attend --to use Mrs. Weasley’s words, who didn’t want to hear even once that he wasn’t even a Weasley and thus, had no business to attend it at all. 

Harry had tried politely to make her understand that it wasn’t his place to be, but the letter he’d received from Ron the next day made him reconsider his choice: Ron was adamant that he needed to be there, that it was his place. Plus, he’d added that his mother was in a bad mood since Harry had told her it wasn’t a good idea. Harry considered himself lucky to not have received an howler from her, then.

After Ron’s letter, Harry had stopped arguing, knowing that it’d have been a pretty futile battle with someone like Molly Weasley. And to be frank, it warmed his heart to know that she wanted him there, that he was requested somewhere on Christmas, that some people were waiting for him at that particular time of the year.

Seeing Mrs. Weasley’s smile was something that was happening rarely since Fred’s death, so guilt flared in his chest when he’d read how she was in a bad mood because of his refusal. It’d mortified him to learn her state was the result of his response, so he’d bit back his words and had written back to her that, finally, he’d be extremely pleased to join them. 

Pigwegeon had smashed into his window the next morning, Ron’s letter in his claws thanking him— first for making his mother happy, but also because he’d need all the support of the world to enjoy his evening, and his friend would be perfect for the job.Harry had frowned, a bad feeling settling in his body. He’d started regretting it the second he’d read those words on the parchment. But there had been no turning back 

The Weasleys had rented a ballroom at the Ministry, one large enough to contain all the Weasleys of the country. According to Ron, it was a tradition of the past to reunite everyone the day before Christmas, one that had lost itself over the years. 

With the last difficult years, the war and the losses, they wanted to see each other more than ever, to get news from everyone, to see their faces, because they never knew when it could be the last time. Still, it was an event that made Ron cringe in the past and he hadn’t been sad to realise they weren’t redoing it for a while. Life had been crazy, jobs had taken a lot of time, and the kids were growing up. Now though, it was time to return to the family traditions and enjoy the time they still had together. 

Harry continued walking in the quiet Ministry hall, brushing off a little spot of soot on the front of his new robes. He took a deep breath, his nerves on fire, and found himself adjusting his glasses on his nose with his finger. Again. 

He was apprehensive about meeting a lot of new people, aware he’d have to smile politely while they’d ask a ton of questions about Voldemort, hence his bubbling anxiety taking place in his stomach. In truth, he normally wouldn’t care to show it annoyed him, but tonight, Harry wanted to make Arthur and Molly proud, to be liked by people who were a part of their family, and not be seen as the famous Harry Potter who is known to be hardly approachable. 

There were holly and other decorations hanging magically from the ceiling and little Christmas songs could be heard in the corridors of the Ministry. Sometimes, those ambient songs were replaced with choirs in the main entrance of the Ministry, reminding him of the chorale from Hogwarts. 

Christmas trees could be found in every corner, each more splendid and breathtaking than the others. Arthur had told them that the Ministry was always decorated for Christmas, but that this year, they had put great effort to make it magnificent, special, an attempt to cheer the wizarding world after the past months. 

At the end of the corridor, there was a plump and short woman in her fifties, with short hair and chain glasses, sitting at a high desk next to some big wooden doors. Harry looked at the number above them and noticed it was the right place. The woman was dressed with a red and elegant sweater that was sparkling and Harry could see _Theresa_ on her name tag. 

Breathing deeply to calm his nerves at the idea of having to mix with so many people, Harry ignored the woman, too engrossed in his thoughts, and continued his way towards the doors, loud laughter and music reaching his ears. 

“Oh! Oh, but wait a minute, Mister! I’m in charge of the guest list,” the woman announced, never turning her head to look at him, the Christmas edition of the _Witch Weekly_ in her hands. 

Harry stared straight in front of the woman, completely stunned, and blinked at her owlishly when he noticed the front page of the magazine. It was a picture of him, a Santa Claus hat he never wore at the top of his head, and the line ‘All we want for Christmas is _him_ ’ at the bottom of the page. 

“Your name please?” she asked, placing her chained glasses on her nose, still looking at her magazine.

Coming back from his initial shock, Harry just lifted an eyebrow at the woman, incredulous, not understanding that she didn’t know who he was since his face was plastered on the front page. Not that it wasn’t refreshing, mind you. It was just… surprising, to say the least.

“Hum,” he mumbled, and then, cleared his throat. “Er. Potter. Harry Potter,” he answered, lowering his voice and glancing furtively around him. 

The woman’s eyes went directly to his forehead and Harry tried with absolute strength to not roll his eyes at her face. Her little eyes widened and she gaped at him a second, making Harry squint a bit under her gaze. 

She finally put her hand on her mouth once she registered who he was and Harry could see her throat working soundlessly, trying in vain to say something. Harry surprised himself for his good manners, and smiled at her, waiting for her to regain her composure.

“Oh! Mr. Potter! I’m sorry, so sorry! How could I _not_ recognize you?” she said, her voice squeaking. “My granddaughter even has a poster of you on her wall,” Theresa added, blushing crimson at that admission, like she was the one with the poster on her wall.

However, Harry was starting to feel impatient, and he was eager to remove his heavy robes from his shoulders, the heat becoming uncomfortable. He gave the woman a tight-lipped smile and shifted. All he wanted at that moment was to enter this room, make sure Mrs. Weasley saw him, to smile at her, and to try to find Ron and Hermione.

Theresa finally recovered, her lips in a thin line, and lifted her chin. “Unfortunately, Mr. Potter, you can’t enter. Your name isn’t on the list,” she said, her tone not allowing for argumentation. 

Harry flushed, his ears burning and his heart beating faster under the woman’s scrutinized eyes. 

“Er, sorry? Molly Weasley invited me. It’s probably a mistake. Are you sure?” he asked, doubtful, questioning her ability to do her job correctly and craning his neck towards the desk, searching for the list himself. 

Harry hadn’t considered the possibility he wouldn’t be welcomed there after receiving Mrs. Weasley’s letter, that it wouldn’t be his place to be. And now, there he was, trying to push away years of shame and heartbreaking solitude, fighting a woman to get a chance to not spend Christmas alone.

“You can’t enter,” she maintained with such a haunting tone that his temper flared. “Since you aren’t a Weasley-” 

“Oh, I’m not? Thanks for the information,” Harry interrupted, laughing humorlessly, and then tried breathing through his nose to calm down. 

Theresa continued like she hadn’t heard him, her hands waving in every direction while she spoke. “-you can’t enter. Simple as that. I’m sorry Mr. Potter, but the order is clear; only people on the list can attend this party. And you aren’t. If you could just move to the right, an auror will escort you to the floo,” she announced to him, lifting her wand to call the security, sending Harry in a light panic.

Harry sighed, assuming he’d pass the night alone at Grimmauld Place, like the grumpy guy Ron liked to call him, but decided to try one last time before returning pitifully on his way home.

“Listen,” he started, licking his lips, “maybe you could go fetch someone and they’d make you understand. Molly Weasley sent me the information. It’s really just a mistake. Wait, I could show you the letter,” he said, having an epiphany, realizing he had the proof with him. “There’s my name on it. I have it just there—” Harry trailed off, frowning and rummaging into his pocket to find the said letter. 

“I need your name on the list, not a letter. You can’t enter. I know who you are, and your statue won’t make me change my mind, Mr. Potter. Don’t even try,” she said, and Harry now was fuming at that insinuation, at the idea he’d tried to use his fame for some privileges. “That’s the last time I will say it. Now get out of—”

“Oh! My love!” Harry heard, the soft voice coming from the wooden doors. “You’re finally here! We were all waiting for you.” 

He shifted his eyes in its direction, knowing with absolute certainty who this voice belonged to, and felt himself raging internally, his heart filling with piercing ice. Something inside him snapped, giving way to what could be related to jealousy, oddly, emerging in his heart, and he felt it shatter in a million pieces. A groan escaped his lips under the emotional pain, his fingers weirdly itching to point his wand at the man’s chest. 

He should have known, he should have anticipated it, but he’d never occurred to him that he’d react like that to that possibility, again. A flash of Dean pressed against Ginny behind a tapestry crossed his mind, and he clenched his teeth. He thought he’d concluded that this was just a consequence corresponding to some brotherly feelings he had towards her, something he’d had in his mind for years.

Harry didn’t dare turn around, wanting to keep that faceless man from creeping sporadically at night into his mind. So, he settled on closing his eyes, fists at his sides, an indescribable and incomprehensible need to run in the other direction and never return buzzing into his whole body with intensity. 

Opening his eyes, his face sporting a deep frown, he only had a second before Ginny jumped effortless into his arms, to his absolute surprise. He inhaled sharply and blinked in confusion, his stomach swooping. Her bare legs encircled his waist, making her green dress wrinkle a little, and then she put her head in the crook of his neck, squeezing him with all her might, her breath heating the cold skin of his neck and her long soft hair tickling his nose. 

Shocked, he held her in a firm grip, his arms crossed under her warm thighs, unable to do anything more than gape, his glasses askew on his nose, and her shampoo filling his senses. He thanked his good reflexes because they would have fallen on the floor without a doubt since he’d never imagined himself in this situation tonight. The smell of her hair was so attractive and familiar that he felt himself closing his eyes, and like it had a mind of its own, his nose pushed further against her skin, nuzzling instinctively her neck. 

They stayed like that a moment, Ginny pressed against his chest, her arms tightening up around his neck, and he felt his bad mood evaporate, while he was relishing her proximity. It was like her presence had the effect of calming his burning nerves, extinguishing his anger and anxiety with only her familiar smile, one that he realized, gave off a strong homey feeling. 

He felt her long eyelashes against his cheek, and then, Ginny’s breath warmed his skin one last time before she got off of him like nothing happened, smiling briefly at him and letting Harry stand there, completely lost, still unable to grasp what had just happened.

“We missed you. I missed you,” Ginny said, looking in his eyes, her small, warm hand curling around his fingers. The new sensation of someone holding it, the skin to skin touch, made blood rush in his veins and her words sent his mind flying in every direction. He looked at her hand in his, having the impression he’d missed something big. Her nails were colored with red and green and his long calloused fingers seemed enormous beside hers. 

Raising up his head, Harry caught her eyes, his narrowed in question, when a voice broke the silence at his side. “Miss Weasley, I was just telling this man,” the woman at the desk said, her voice veiled with dubiousness and pointing her wand at Harry, “that unfortunately, his name doesn’t appear on the official list for the entries. Maybe—”

Ginny beamed at him like never before, and Harry swore he saw a certain mirth flashing in her eyes, before she turned to the plump woman. He stared at her, agape, but understanding her unspoken demand to follow her lead. “Yes, yes. I know. I’m so sorry. It’s simply an error, I assure you,” she replied sweetly, and then, embraced Harry’s arm with affection, cuddling at his side, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t recoil from the touch. 

She put her head on his bicep, before looking at him with a radius smile, her brown eyes twinkling. “Harry Potter is my plus-one and should have been on the list. My father apologizes for the omission.”

The woman frowned, her eyes shifting in a frantic manner from Ginny to Harry, like she wasn’t sure she was supposed to let that one pass. When her eyes shifted to his scar, Harry clenched his teeth in annoyance and then pursed his lips, eager to get away from her gaze. 

She cleared her throat, and removed her glasses from her nose, the chains rattling the desk when she put them down. 

All of a sudden, a knowing and warm smile graced her lips, while Ginny was still smiling at the woman, her hand caressing his arm in a natural manner. Harry played with the collar of his robes, having the firm impression the Ministry had never been so hot. 

“I imagine that it could be arranged. I’ll simply add your name here, Mr. Potter,” Theresa said, waving her hand in the air; sparks of gold landed on the parchment, one Harry assumed was the sacred list. 

“Thank you,” Ginny replied to her with a charming smile, letting go of his arm, and Harry swallowed, feeling a weird sensation in his chest akin to disappointment, but it couldn’t be. “It wouldn’t have been the same without our Harry,” she added, turning to look at him. Harry smiled uncomfortably at Theresa, and then decided to busy himself with brushing a new spot of dust he noticed on his sleeve. 

“My pleasure, Miss. Good evening,” the older woman said, nodding at them. Ginny mimicked her and advanced towards the closed doors, glancing at Harry to tell him to follow her. Taking a deep breath, he nodded at his turn to Theresa, and opened the heavy doors, letting Ginny pass first. 

Going through the doors, Harry’s body stiffened when he noticed how many people were there, sitting at various tables. Kids were running around and dancing, while adults were clapping their hands to the music, smiling at the kids’ easy happiness and enchantment. One little girl with flaming hair was spinning around, making her dress fly, and laughing with delight. It lifted Harry’s spirit and he couldn’t help imagining a little Ginny doing the same thing years ago. 

The room was decorated with sparkling lights of diverse colors, ones similar to what Harry had seen in some shops at Hogsmeade around the holidays. 

There were people chatting at every corner of the room, glass in hand, looking like they were having some deep discussions, while others were embracing warmly or moving in the room with different plates or gifts. 

Some faces seemed familiar and he realised he’d probably seen them at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. The atmosphere was animated and cheerful, his ears filled with laughter and popular Christmas songs he’d heard at Hogwarts and at The Burrow. 

He swallowed, straightening his shoulders, and let the sweet familiar scents of ginger cookies and mince pies fill his nose and tickle his appetite. Harry’s eyes sought for Ron and Hermione in the red haired crowd, looking around frantically to find them. 

Ginny seemed to sense he was a bit uncomfortable around so many strangers and patted his arm to attract his attention. “They are at our table, just at the right,” she said, like she’d read his mind. “Mum’s probably still arranging the buffet and Dad is…” she said, looking around, a frown between her eyes. “Dad is somewhere,” she finally said with a contagious laugh, making Harry chuckle. “Mum has been asking about you for half an hour already. I think she was afraid you wouldn’t come,” Ginny added with a smirk.

Harry frowned and looked at the watch at his wrist. “I’m not late, right?” he asked her, finally finding his voice. “On the letter, it’s written that I had to be here around 7PM and it’s not even-- I mean, I don’t want your mother to think I didn’t want to come--”

Ginny’s eyes went wide. “Harry, my mum isn’t angry at you. Calm down,” she told him, and he opened his mouth to defend himself, to argue he was calm, but instead let her reassuring words wash over him, easing the tension in his shoulders. 

“You know how she is,” she continued, a smile gracing her lips, and her voice filled with a kindness that had the immediate effect of softening his heart. “It has to be perfect. She was anxious you wouldn’t come, that’s all. She’s going to be ecstatic when she’ll see you. And Charlie isn’t here yet anyway.” She wrinkled her nose, and then looked like she was searching for her words. Harry stayed silent, looking deep in her bright eyes, wishing he could decipher her thoughts.

“I’m really sorry for--” she eventually said, gesturing towards the corridor, a faint blush tinting her cheeks, one reminding Harry of their first year knowing each other, and how, years later, her reactions were nothing else than precious and charming in his eyes. 

“When I heard how she was giving you a hard time, I understood I had to be convincing and...” She trailed off, and bit her bottom lip, worries veiling her gaze. “I know you’re not-- I mean, I hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

“Oh, erm, it’s fine,” he replied, passing a hand through his hair, and not really knowing what else to say. It’d been a bit of a shock if he was being honest with himself, but somehow, it hadn’t felt too odd to have her in his arms like that, or maybe, it was only because it was Ginny, because he trusted her. 

He cleared his throat. “Actually, could you tell me what was--” he began, his thumb pointing over his shoulder, when Ginny’s face lit up in understanding.

“Oh! Er, yes. Well, the family decided that everyone could only bring one person with them, because, like you can tell, we’re a lot.” She grinned and Harry nodded, glancing around the busy room. 

“So, er, yeah,” Ginny continued, replacing a strand of her behind her ear. “Everyone was already bringing someone, Ron has Hermione, Geoge has Angelina, so Mum had the idea you’d be my plus-one,” Ginny announced, and Harry’s eyes widened. Ginny seemed to notice his reaction and shook her head. “Oh! Oh! No, don’t worry, I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night. It was just for the show,” she added in a rush, and the relief Harry was thinking he’d feel never came. 

_Just for the show._

He realised Ginny was still talking, her voice bringing him back to reality, and he blinked at her, hoping she didn’t notice that he wasn’t focused. 

“Mum realised at the last minute she hadn’t added your name on the list since she received your response a bit late. And, I used my creativity to be convincing. I hope you don’t mind,” she added, wincing a bit, her cheeks taking a light rosy shade again, and he couldn’t help smiling at the situation. 

“I think you succeeded pretty well. 9/10 for the act,” he replied to her, his mouth in a grin; he put his hands in his pocket, rocking back and forth on his heels. 

“Only 9/10? I’m offended, Harry Potter! I worked so hard,” Ginny declared, and then winked at him. Harry swallowed, that weird sensation of butterflies flying in his chest appearing again.

“Well, seems like my job’s done here,” she said to him with a laugh after a moment, her hand on her forehead, saluting him comically. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Harry made a grimace, like he was scared. “Why are you threatening me like that? Please don’t. Don’t.” 

“Hey!” Ginny replied with a grin and he grinned back.

“Sorry, I just wanted to show my acting skills too.”

Ginny blinked at him and let out a loud laugh. “8/10.”

“I don’t believe you! I want another opinion,” Harry said when Ginny turned on her heels. He saw her looking over her shoulder. “Ron’s coming, let’s see what he thinks of your new career!” 

Harry watched her go, her long red mane flying behind her, and couldn’t help feeling his mouth going dry when he noticed that her dress was shorter than the one she’d worn at the wedding, the memory of the feel of her smooth legs under his palms some minutes ago popping in his mind. He shook his head and shut his eyes to clear his mind, not believing where his thoughts were going, and then tried to find Ron in the crowd. Likewise, Ron and Hermione were coming towards him, but Harry’s eyes kept shifting and searching for Ginny, and he began to get seriously annoyed with himself.

Ron bumped in Ginny, who had a drink in hand. “Oops! Sorry, you weren’t in my field of view,” Ron said, moving his hand above Ginny’s head to show how small she was. 

“Ron!” exclaimed Hermione and Harry frowned, hoping Ginny wouldn’t be annoyed at Ron’s joke, knowing how her brothers were always making fun of her height. He watched as she laughed and bumped harder on her brother’s side, then left to talk with Percy and his new girlfriend. 

A man in his late twenties, his shoulders sprinkled with snowflakes and holding a baby dressed with a Santa hat in his arm, apologized with a smile when he bumped suddenly on Harry’s shoulder. The man dragged himself towards a group of redheads, all of them letting out a cry of joy when they saw him arriving with the baby, his snowy boots letting some puddles of melted snow on his way. 

“Oi! Got a bit of a problem there, Ginny told us?” Ron, wearing an old Weasley jumper, asked him with a grin, slapping his shoulder. 

“Er, yeah, we could say that,” Harry told him, smiling at his friends. 

Hermione arrived at his side a second later, her eyes sparkling, and gave him a hug. “It’s so good to see you, Harry!” she said, a tremor in her voice and her eyes teary, which sent Harry in a mild panic. Not knowing what else to do exactly, he smiled at his friend, the words to tell her how much he’d missed her stuck in his throat, so he settled for a lame, “You too, Hermione!” Yet, Hermione beamed, satisfied despite Harry’s lack of demonstration. 

“You saw him two days ago at King Cross,” Ron said, disconcerted.

“Yes, Ron, but I haven’t seen Harry for months before that,” she replied with annoyance in her voice, to which Ron only raised an eyebrow at her in interrogation, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, but like I said, you saw him two days ago, not months ago. I guess I just don’t understand why girls--”

“Oh hush! Can you let me react like I want to react? I showed you perfectly fine how I missed you, didn’t I?” Hermione said bluntly, and Ron swallowed, his ears turning pink, while Harry failed to hide his grimace. 

Ron moved behind Hermione, an apologetic air on his face, and crossed his arms around her, putting his chin on her shoulder, while Hermione seemed to realise what she’d just admitted, blushing at her turn. Harry heard Ron murmuring his apologies in her ear, and she nodded, smiling at him, everything already forgotten. 

“Right,” said Harry, breaking the silence. “I’ll just put my cloak in the cloakroom, I can’t stand them anymore,” he added, moving his neck with a grimace. 

Hermione nodded in understanding. “Let me show you,” Ron then said, and they all followed him across the room. Harry caught Ginny’s eyes at their table, and she waved, before laughing at something Angelina said to George. He shook his head and messed up his hair, pleading his mind to focus on not running into someone while he walked instead of always drifting to Ginny and the feel of her pressed against him.

Dodging wet boots on the floor, he hung his cloak and then exited the room to be accosted by Molly, who didn’t wait a second and crushed his bones in a hug, her favorite hat pressing on the side of his face. 

“Harry, dear! I’m so glad to see you!” she said, and then looked at him with a critical eye. “Come with me, I’ll show you where the plates are, you’ll be able to eat a little,” she told him, brushing his fringe from his eyes, and he smiled, not expecting less from her and her determination to make him eat. 

“Hello, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you for inviting me,” he said, still not entirely feeling like it was his place to be tonight. 

She gestured in the void. “We’re all happy you joined us, dear,” she replied, her eyes shimmering with warmth, clapping his cheeks. He swallowed, the familiar gesture comforting him and mollifying his dark thoughts and his deep fear of never belonging engraved in his veins.

* * *

The beginning of Harry’s evening came down to catching up with his friends, a butterbeer in hand. Harry was standing up in the center of the room, laughing with Ginny, Fleur and Bill, and brushing the subject of Fleur’s pregnancy when the couple excused themselves, letting him alone with Ginny. Harry was about to tell her they should move to their table and join her brother and Hermione when two tall women, maybe a bit older than Ginny and wearing a tone of makeup, arrived in front of them. Ginny glanced at Harry, and he heard her sigh.

“Hi Agatha, Sabrina. Been a while,” Ginny said to the girls and Harry sensed the lack of warmth in her voice, which pointed out to him she wasn’t keen to see them again. “Harry, these are my distant cousins. Agatha, Sabrina, this is Harry.”

“Harry POTTER!” the girls said in tandem, and then chortled loud enough for Harry to wince, the sound giving him the same distinct and awful sensation similar as when someone scratched their nails on a blackboard. He had to remember to not roll his eyes in their presence, which turned out to be more difficult than he anticipated. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“I’m sure it is,” Harry replied, his hands in his pocket. Ginny snorted. 

Advancing sharply towards Harry, Agatha tried to kiss his cheeks in greeting, and he debated with himself on what to do, before taking on him and knowing there was no polite way to get out of the situation.

Likewise, one of the girls had to press her makeuped lips to his cheeks and add as much saliva as she could, making Harry backed away from her faster than what was politically correct. Ginny grimaced at him, and he thought he really had messed up his introduction when she gave him the napkin she had under her plate. 

Breathing in relief, he thanked her with a glance and started cleaning his cheek, trying his best to not offend her cousin, who seemed too busy speaking to Ginny and gushing about him to notice his disdain. 

The attention was becoming fairly uncomfortable, and Harry didn’t know what to say, feeling like an absurd mess that everyone wanted to touch and wanted to have a piece of. 

“You never told us that, little sneaky!” Agatha said to Ginny with a high and excited voice, taking her by the arm. 

“You’re probably the only ones in the Wizarding world to not know that then. It wasn’t a secret. He’s Ron’s best friend for years and--” Ginny responded with a frown, before Agatha cut her off without any grace, making Harry cringe. 

“We didn’t know you knew him,” Sabrina said, fixing Harry and getting closer to him. He moved a little, closing the distance between Ginny and him, his arm brushing hers. 

“I didn’t know it was your business,” Ginny muttered.

“What a lucky girl you are, having to spend time in his company, right Saby?” Agatha said, licking her lips while her eyes roved Harry’s body; he couldn’t hide his judgement from his face, raising an eyebrow at the girl in total disbelief. “And he’s here, chatting with you! I wouldn’t have believed it if I wouldn’t have seen it tonight,” she added to Ginny, and Sabrina nodded. Harry felt himself growing angry on her behalf, a mean remark dancing on the tip of his tongue.

“Sorry?” he said through clenched teeth, his jaw squared. The words escaped his lips before he could have thought them through, unable to stop himself from snapping under such an insulting allusion concerning Ginny.

Ginny’s eyebrows were raised, and then, she narrowed her eyes at her cousins, anger painting on her face. “What is so surprising in this? Care to share your vision on the matter?”

Agatha ignored Ginny’s questions, and instead, turned her gaze to Harry, looking at him from head to toes, and let out a cry of excitement, her high-pitched voice irritating Harry’s nerves, and the situation reminded him of some encounters he had with Moaning Myrtle years ago. 

“If you’re bored later, it will be my pleasure to entertain a famous hero, if you know what I mean,” she said, her voice filled with disgusting lace.

He looked at Ginny from the corner of his eye and noticed that her mouth was opened in surprise, her ears taking a red shade, and it was clear she was ready to lash out at any second. Harry put a hand on her shoulder in support, situations like this one being unfortunately common for him, but it still felt good to know she had his back like that, that she cared. He was about to tell Agatha how rude she was when Ginny replied.

“Excuse me? What did you just say to him?” she asked Agatha, her voice full of venom. She turned her head to face Harry. “I’m so sorry, Harry. Us Weasley have class normally,” Ginny said, patting his arm, her eyes now fixed on Agatha’s. “Tell me, what kind of stupid men did you ever date and who shagged you in a broom closet at a family party, Agatha?” she asked in total disbelief, clearly trying to contain her fury. 

Agatha rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and pushing her breast higher, in an attempt to prove her point, Harry assumed, but he only found the movement unsightly. “I’m here all night if you want to go take a drink later,” Agatha added to Harry, and his eyes wide. 

“I doubt it will happen,” Harry replied, his voice stern, while Ginny huffed at his side.

“If you even know him, you’d know he’s not the kind of guy to do that. Leave him alone” Ginny threw at her cousin in disgust and exasperation;Harry’s heart flipped, a flash of memory taking him to Flourish and Blotts years earlier, a small Ginny defending him for the first time.

Agatha moved her hair behind her shoulder. “Calm Down, Ginevra! Why so prudish? I know what I’m saying. It’s clear you never shagged someone famous like I did. If I was his girlfriend, I’d make sure he’s in the mood,” she affirmed, winking, her thin lips curling and giving her a devious air, and it was like Agatha had totally forgotten Harry was _just_ there, hearing all the salacious and stupid comments she was sharing with Ginny. 

Sabrina giggled next to her, and then mentioned a certain quidditch player in the Puddlemere United, but no one was really minding her, too absorbed by the strong grip of their own anger.

Ginny, fuming, was about to take out her wand when Harry snapped, stopping her in her motion. “What do you know if she ever shagged a famous person? And good thing you’re not my girlfriend then, ‘cause I can assure you it would end right here and there. Not that you’d have any chances anyway. I’m perfectly happy with mine and if I miss her, I know where to find her,” he said, and without thinking, he took Ginny’s hand in his. The silence stretched a moment, giving enough room for Harry to think about his rash move.

He looked at Ginny, ready to run away with her and apologize for the rest of his life. 

He also hoped Ginny wasn’t angry at him for the way he’d talked to her cousin, thinking that for a first experience in meeting her larger family, it wasn’t a success. 

Ginny hid her surprised look in a flash, and moved closer to him, narrowing her eyes at Agatha. 

Agatha looked at them with a dumbfounded expression, like Harry had just slapped her in the face and she’d never seen it coming. He swallowed, regretting the way he’d handled the situation, and feeling an annoyance towards her running high in his veins. She’d never be his favorite cousin, he decided, and the fact Ginny was related to her was unbelievable. Much as him being related to Dudley. 

“Why, thank you, love,” Ginny finally said to him with a smile, breaking the heavy silence. The pet name escaping her lips made his heart rate increase.

“So, it was _really_ interesting, but we sadly have to excuse ourselves,” Harry announced with a fake cheering voice. Without frivolities, he turned away from Ginny’s cousins, impatient to find himself away from their hungry eyes, and took Ginny’s hand in his, bringing her to his side. 

They walked across the room without a word, hand in hand, passing through heated political discussions and laughter, dodging kids running around, until Harry stopped in a corner, sheltered from curious ears. 

He turned his face to hers, mortified. “I’m so, so, sorry. I should never have said that. I don’t know what I was thinking or why I did that-”

“ _I_ am so sorry, Harry,” Ginny said, pinching the arc of her nose, her eyes screwed shut. She opened them, and he could see how upset she was. “I can’t believe they talked to you like that,” she added and he shrugged. 

“Don’t shrug! It’s not acceptable!” she shouted at him.

“It’s not, but it’s been my life for months so I-”

“It shouldn’t be. It’s--” she said, and closed her eyes, shaking her head. “And hey, what you said, it wasn’t a bad idea. Now my cousins will stop fawning over you like you were a piece of meat. Though, to be clear, I doubt it. A lost cause, they are,” she said, crossing her arms, like she was sincerely upset for him and Harry swallowed, feeling stupid to sense she could be ready to fight the world for his reputation. 

“Yeah, maybe. But I shouldn’t have done that without, you know, talking about it with you first,” Harry said, gesturing in the void and still feeling bad to put her in this situation without talking about it with her first. 

“I guess my little lie earlier will serve for the rest of the night,” she said, making Harry breathe in a sigh of relief when he saw how she wasn’t fazed about his action. 

Harry nodded, but he had another concern. “It’s just, imagine if the press gets the news, I can’t be seen with you,” he said without pause, worried about what kind of lies they would tell about her. He watched Ginny’s face fall, which he assumed was because she was now realising the problem too. “And I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position. I’m already worried about Theresa--”

Ginny shook her head. “Okay, stop. It’s just for tonight and tomorrow, we will continue our lives like nothing happened. There’s nothing between us,” she said, a crisp smile on her lips. Harry’s stomach filled with ice under her answer.

“Right.” he only responded, looking over her shoulder and putting his hands in his jeans. 

“Good. So, I’m okay to pretend for the rest of the night if it can help you, and the worst that will happen will be that we will have to argue in public tomorrow.”

“I guess.”

“Good.”

“Brillant.”

They stayed silent for a moment, and they eventually moved to their table, Ginny’s words running in his mind and making his heart thump brutally inside him. He fisted his hands in his pockets, determined to block them and spend a nice evening anyway. 

_It’s just for the show._

_There's nothing between us._

* * *

  
  


The chatting at their table was relentless, one always throwing a joke and unclenching an uproar of laughter by the participants, or another taking pleasure in teasing with clear affection one of them.

It was familiar, bringing him a hearten comfort he’d never want to trade for anything in his life as everything else seemed frivolous compared to the intimity he had the chance to share with the Weasleys and his friends. Harry kept bantering with Ginny, like they often did at the Burrow or Grimmauld Place in the past. 

“The night will be amazing if you’re going to be in that mood, Ginny,” Charlie had said, and Ginny had thrown a piece of bread at him; her brother had it caught with his mouth, shooting her a grin.

“The night is always amazing when I’m here, what are you saying.”

“Hey that’s my line,” George had cried, and Ginny had asked Harry if he’d heard that weird complaining noise too.

Hermione seemed ecstatic, her eyes sparkling with affection while listening Ron speak to Charlie who had finally arrived. Ron’s arm was comfortably around Hermione’s chair, and Harry noticed that George had done the same with Angelina. He was proud of them, of what they had accomplished, and so grateful they’d found their rock. 

Harry was just contemplating the idea of putting his arm around Ginny’s chair too when she’d motioned to him to do the same, glancing back with a smirk at Agatha who was sending daggers at her back. They’d shared a triumphant smile, murmuring their plan to the set of curious eyes at the table, and continued to enjoy their night. 

Ginny’s shining hair attracted his attention and he ignored the sudden aching twinge in his heart at not being graced with the chance to share that sort of domestic intimacy with her everyday. It was just for tonight. It was just a lie. 

It wasn’t for real, not for someone like him. Harry knew that she didn’t really want to be with him, and he couldn’t blame her. 

He would always be the Chosen One of the Wizarding World, but someone would never willingly choose him, and all that came with it, Harry thought, frowning, his eyes transfixing the table. That person would be crazy to put up with so much. The press, the lies, the danger, his past, the illuminated fanatics; it was too much for one person and he couldn’t afflige that to somebody, to her. He refused. And it twisted his heart.

“Stop sulking,” Ginny murmured in his ear, her warm breath on his skin startling him. 

“What?” he snapped his attention to her.

“Stop sulking, I said,” Ginny repeated, lifting an eyebrow at him, daring him to contradict her.

It was surprising, really, that she’d been able to read his expression that well. He turned his face to hers, and noticed he was just a breath away from her smirking lips, and that the freckles on her cheeks were blurred. He swallowed, fighting the immediate urge to close the distance between them. Just once. Just to know if her lips still tasted like the coffee she drank. Just to try.

“-I swear I did them!” Ron cried with a laugh, faking offense, and it didn’t take more for Ginny to pull away, curious to know what the commotion was about. Harry sighed, his heart racing and his blood pumping in his veins, and turned to look at his friend, unable to remove from his mind the color of Ginny’s lips. 

“Tell them Hermione!” he said, looking at her and crossing his arms playfully, and then turning to his older brother. “She didn’t help me. I had some talents, you know. I got the genes,” he said to Bill, lifting his eyebrows proudly. Bill was standing up beside Fleur’s chair with a piece of Christmas pudding on a plate, and was apparently not believing Ron could have baked it. 

“He did it all by himself, I only helped him decorate the plate,” Hermione affirmed, caressing Ron’s neck.

“Well, Hermione, your Christmas pudding is delicious,” Bill said to her with a wink; Ron lightly hit Bill's stomach with the back of his hand, making him grunt with a laugh and Fleur rolled her eyes. 

“I tasted it earlier and it was fabulous, Ronald. Mini Weasley loved it,” said Fleur, winking, and Ron’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Harry couldn’t hide his smile, knowing just how proud and impatient Ron was to become an uncle. 

Ron turned to Harry. “Have you tried it?”

“Er, no? Not yet.”

“Go try it and let me know how you like it,” Ron pressed him, and Harry shook his head at his friend’s excitement. “You too, Ginny! I’m sure you’ll love it. I tried to do it like mum’s.”

Ginny’s eyes illuminated. “Ohh! Let’s go, Harry,” she said, bolting from her seat and putting some pressure on Harry’s arm, an unspoken request to let her pass, and Harry removed his arm from her chair. “We have to try it before everyone eats them,” she added, hurrying towards the big table with all the desserts and appetizers. Harry didn’t make himself wait and followed her, her enthusiasm contagious, and his cheeks flushed when he heard some little boys impersonating Harry Potter and playing with some fake wands. 

He found himself in front of many plates and noticed there was another table with sandwiches, vegetables, and salads. His stomach rumbled lightly when the smell reached his nose. 

Ginny was already filling her plate with the Christmas pudding when he noticed that each plate of dessert on the buffet had a small piece of parchment with the name of who had been cooking or baking it. The blood drained from his face when he realised everyone had brought something to eat, that everyone had made their part to fill the buffet, apart from him. 

Ginny turned to him, putting a plate of Ron’s dessert in his hand when she frowned, noticing the panic in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” 

She advanced towards him, her freckled face searching in his eyes what was the trigger to his distress and put a gentle hand on his arm. Harry licked his lips, unable to explain exactly the shame he was experiencing. Never he’d thought about bringing something, never someone had teached him it was how it worked, that it was the right thing to do, and he couldn’t help the turmoil building in his stomach. 

That small paper was another tangible proof he hadn’t had parents to show him the way to do, reviving his worry of not belonging here today, or that people would judge him for his slip. It was like an undesirable embodiment testimoniting of his miserable life that he hadn’t wanted to be exposed to today. 

“I-I just,” he began, Ginny’s eyes imploring him to talk, but he couldn’t stand to look in her eyes. He reached up to touch Ron and Hermione’s piece of parchment with his fingertips, their names written beautifully in green ink, and swallowed. He adjusted his glasses, searching how to explain, and was saved from responding when he heard Ginny speak. 

“Is it the desserts?” she asked, trying to understand his tumult. He chuckled humorlessly, knowing full well his behavior was unusual for someone fetching a bite of sugar. He debated with himself if he should just carry on with a smile and act like nothing had happened, but it didn’t seem possible at the moment by the way Ginny was frowning at him.

She squeezed his arm. “It’s because you didn’t participate, right? I understand correctly, Harry?” He contented himself to nod, inhaling, a sharp annoyance with himself grating his nerves. 

Ginny nodded, put down their plates on the table, and took out her wand. Harry looked at her, his brows knitted together in interrogation, when she turned to a plate full of delicious looking cookies, each one decorated harmoniously and cute enough to lift up any Christmas spirits. She waved her wand on the piece of parchment, and Harry noticed it had her name written on it. Little green letters appeared beside hers, and he realised with surprise that it was his name she had added. Ginny turned to him, smiling, and Harry could only stare at her.

“Problem solved,” she said, winking, and noticing his frown, he assumed, Ginny passed her arms under his, embracing his waist to reassure him. “Now, you can stop being Grumpy Harry and come with me eating our Christmas pudding and tease Ron that Hermione did it,” she mumbled in his woolen jumper, tightening her arms around him, and burying her nose into his chest.

Harry cleared his throat, feeling lost for words, a warmth bubbling inside him. Grateful and a bit shaken to know she had his back and that she understood him so well, he returned her hug, mindful to not crush her bones in his eagerness, his fingers hitching to caress her good-smelling hair. He screwed his eyes shut and put his chin on her head, hoping to make her understand how thankful he was to have her.

“Gin, you didn’t have to do that,” he finally said in her hair. She shook her head and raised it, looking in his eyes with determination, her arms still comfortably around his waist.

“What? But you helped me bake them!" said Ginny with fake surprise, and, just like that, he caught what she was playing at. "You were the one measuring the flour and adding the butter. Don't tell me you don't remember! I only decorated them, in fact. Plus, of course you helped, you're my boyfriend, no way I’d do this alone while you’d listen to the wireless on the couch,” she said with mirth, and buried her head in his jumper again, squeezing him, her fingers brushing his neck and sending shivers down his spine. 

The gesture surprised him for a second, the closeness creating a wave of tingles on his skin, making his heart beat dangerously fast, accentuating how fragile he was already feeling. Harry pushed her a little from his chest, taking her head in his hands with a carefulness he didn't know he was capable of, making her look in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he murmured, a faint tremor in his voice, unable to compose anything else to say to explain his gratitude. 

His eyes pierced hers with intent for what seemed to last minutes, and without realising, without thinking, he started caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. The movement was so natural, like he’d done it all his life, and he felt an intimacy between them he never wanted to lose, so much that he didn’t dare to stop. He couldn’t stop staring at her face in admiration, relishing in the feel of her soft freckled skin under his calloused fingers. Ginny closed her eyes a couple of seconds, and then blinked, giving him a brief smile.

She removed herself from Harry in a quick motion, startled him, and turned to take their plates on the table, giving him his.

“After that, I need to try this fabulous salad there,” Ginny said, eyeing the other table. Harry only chuckled, still emotionally shaken, which annoyed him quite a bit. Putting this aside. He watched Ginny move, his tongue heavier in his mouth. She gave him a small smile, her gloss shining, and he contented himself to reciprocate it, his hand buried in his pocket.

“Come on, I’m famished,” she said, taking his hand. A flash of illumination passed on her face and she turned to the table again, and added a well-decorated cookie on their plates. 

“Your cookies are so good, I can’t resist them, Harry!” she said to him, her mouth full of the said cookies. She then hurried to their table, letting Harry alone and smiling. In three big strides, he had passed her, her cry of indignation warming his insides. 

* * *

  
  
Later, seeing her at the buffet preparing a plate, he made his way to her, and noticed some girls in a corner whispering and glancing at him, not even hiding their laughter or the subject of their discussion. Harry hurried his steps, not being in the mood to be stopped by one of them to chat. 

“Be subtle, but at your right, some of your cousins are chatting about the possible color of my boxers,” Harry breathed in Ginny’s ear, who contented herself to nod in understanding, fighting a smirk.

Licking his lips, he glanced at Ginny’s cousins, hoping what he’d do next would give them a reason to find another subject of discussion “Erm, mind if I put my hand--”

“Do it,” Ginny said, nodding with determination, her delicate eyebrows setted in a frown. 

With a plate in one hand to fill, Harry put his other arm around her waist, putting her closer to his chest, his palm flatted on her stomach. He lifted his eyes towards the group of chuckling girls, and noticed they were looking at them, their smiles vanishing. Smirking, Harry nuzzled the side of Ginny’s head, minding to not hurt her with his glasses. The perfume of her shampoo invaded his senses, and he breathed it in, something he’d found himself craving about often at Hogwarts. Ginny let her head tip back, gently dropping it on his shoulder and Harry swallowed, marvelling about how it felt good and natural to touch her. She took a deep breath, a peaceful smile on her face and her eyes closed. 

“Did someone ever tell you how good you smell?” she murmured only for him to hear. 

He caressed her stomach with the palm of his hand, licking his lips. “Funny, I was going to ask the same to you,” he said in her ear. Harry swallowed hard his temptation to find himself alone with her, pressed against him, letting his fingertips explore parts of her he didn’t know.

Ginny put a hand on his and her smile got wider, lacing their fingers together, her other still holding her plate of canapes. She squeezed his joints and Harry couldn’t have felt more complete than at that exact moment. 

He let his chin fall on her shoulder, pulling her closer to his chest. The skin on her neck gave off heat, and he benefited from it by putting the tip of his cold nose on it, searching to warm it. He felt so comfortable like that, and he didn’t care about all the other relatives around filling their plates too. He nuzzled her neck, Ginny’s fingers tightening around his, and his lips grazed her warm skin, making Ginny shiver against him, then stiff under his hands. 

Harry winced, and then stopped moving, his breath caught in his throat. He wondered if he hadn’t gone too far with all that acting thing. Playing her boyfriend was really a bad idea, and more complicated than what he had thought at first; the boundaries weren’t exactly clear and delineated, and he wanted to swear through his teeth because of his stupid impulse.

But then she turned in his arms, her eyes locking on his, and for a moment, the voices around them became a light buzzing in his ears, and he could only focus on her. 

Ginny pressed her body on him, waking up a fire in his stomach that was consuming all his brain cells. She placed her hand in his hair, placing with her fingers the short locks that were falling on his forehead, making him smile like a bloody fool. 

“I’d already made you a plate. If-If It’s okay with you. I found your favorites,” she said quickly, turning a little in his arms and pointing at a plate on the buffet, one he hadn’t noticed before. He exhaled through his nose, an elation flooding in his veins. 

“-And I didn’t put egg sandwiches ‘cause I know how you hate them. I found Shepherd's Pie from my mum. You have lots of carrots too and-” Ginny mentioned, and the shyness in her voice didn’t pass under his radar. 

“Thanks Gin. It looks delicious,” he said, smiling at her with all the reassurance he could gather. She just shrugged nonchalantly and gave him a small smile, letting one of her. 

Harry took the plate on the table, and turned to Ginny. “Are you finished or you still want to add a bit of things to your plate?” he asked, eyeing the plate in her hand, and started adding a handful of chips in his. He’d returned later to fill up two cups of water for the two of them.

“Hum. I think I’ll just go take the _last_ part of the treacle tart there. Wait.”

He stopped in his motion, and gaped at her. “There’s treacle tart? It’s not fair! I didn’t know!” he said, scandalized, while she smirked triumphantly at him. 

“Well, I saw it first, Potter. Now that’s mine,” Ginny said, taking it from the table and putting it in a smaller plate. She winked at him. Harry narrowed his eyes, and then pouted playfully, something he'd never done. 

“Oh, you know I’ll share, big baby. I wouldn’t do that to you, you would never get over it.”

Harry laughed. “I think that’s fair! Who would!” He shook his head, trying to be serious. “I’m kidding, Gin. I don’t really care, you can keep it. I don’t want to eat your things.”

Ginny tilted her head a bit, observing him, and then advanced towards him with a smirk on her lips, her eyes having a mischievous gleam. Pressing against him, she lifted herself on the tips of her toes to reach his ear. “That’s a lie and you know that,” she breathed to him. 

* * *

  
  


Harry had turned on his heels to hide his blush and calm his racing heart after what Ginny had implied. He hadn’t waited a second to head to their table, where Ron and Hermione were waiting for them to begin to eat, plates still in hands and with the firm intent to appease the physical effect her words had had to his body. The sweet laugh she’d let out when she’d seen his face was still ringing in his mind, and he smiled like a fool despite his will power. 

A familiar brown haired woman with a warm voice stopped Ginny, who was following him. Harry looked behind him, and decided out of politeness, to join her. 

“Ginevra! Look at you,” the woman said when he arrived, putting her hands on Ginny’s shoulders to look at her, and Harry felt the beginning of a headache while trying to place her relative. 

“What a beautiful girl you’d become. Right, Elias? Isn’t she gorgeous?” she asked her husband at her side, pinching Ginny’s cheeks, and Harry bit his lip, imagining how uncomfortable it must have been. 

The man was short and wearing a moustache, with one of the friendliest smiles Harry had ever seen. It was evident he was part of Arthur’s family, by the way he exuded such a tender kindness. He laughed, and advanced towards Ginny, his arms opened and his smile still plastered on his lips, and then engulfed her in a hug. “She’d always been my favorite, you know it, Elaine!”

Ginny laughed, the sound making Harry smile. He realised that she’d always looked so happy at Christmas time, and he couldn’t help but grin at her enthusiasm. 

Her smile would light the room, making Harry unable to look elsewhere. She’d always sing festive melodies, once with Sirius accompanying her with glee. Memories of her making garlands at the Burrow popped in his mind, and he remembered how gorgeous he’d found her. But there were also her bright eyes stripped of their glow, her face paled, her voice shy and low. There was one Christmas that Harry couldn’t find an ounce of cheerfulness in her behavior, one that Riddle had snatched forcefully away from her. His face grew serious, and an uncomfortable heaviness took place in his heart at the memories. Regardless of the frightening and horrendous months of pure violation she’d been inflicted to, Ginny found in herself the strength to be that compassionate, driven and vivacious person Harry admired with all his being. 

“You said that to all the cousins, Uncle Elias! Admit it!” Ginny mumbled against the man’s chest, looking so small compared to him. Elias didn’t deny her accusation, only laughing harder while his wife shook her head, amused at the scene. 

Other relatives joined them, attracted by what Harry thought was the lovely reunion. He breathed, trying to chase images of a young and pale Ginny from his head. 

Ginny sent Harry a weird look he didn’t decipher and then advanced towards a man with pale red hair. “Oh, hi Barney!” Ginny greeted him and kissed his cheeks. Harry’s eyes wided, and he started coughing, his surprise causing a gulp of air to pass in the wrong hole. 

“Barney, that’s Harry,” she said, turning to Harry and her face illuminated. Harry shook Barney’s hand and hid his awkwardness the best he could. 

“Oh, _the_ Harry Potter,” he said and Harry heard Ginny sighed. 

He faked a smile. “The one and only.” 

Barney narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Are the two of you together?” Barney asked Ginny, beaming and pointing to Harry.

Clearly taken aback, Ginny answered. “Er, yes. Yes we are.” She then embraced Harry’s sides with delicatess, her plate still in her hand. “It’s so new, you don’t even imagine,” she added and Harry snorted, while Elaine let out a cry of excitement. Ginny pressed her temple on his collarbone, shaking with discret laughter.

“Well congrats! We need good news like that!” Barney exclaimed, and Harry nodded, grinning at the man and squeezing Ginny against him, wishing she could stay like that forever. 

The conversation shifted. “Barney, love, you hadn’t told me Douglas was walking now!” Elaine exclaimed, and Ginny whispered to Harry that she was Barney’s mother and Douglas was his son. 

“Yeah, we’re running after him for a couple of days already! But it’s so adorable to see him walking around, with his chubby little thighs,” Barney said, his eyes on his son who was trying to put a bite of dessert in his mouth, sitting at the kids’ table with the other kids.

“When did Diggory start walking, Barney? I think he walked pretty early, didn’t he?I don’t remember,” Elaine asked his son.

“Merlin, baby talk now. That’s my cue to leave!” Elias announced with a laugh, squeezing his son’s shoulders. Harry smiled politely, but didn’t understand Elias’ repulsion, really. He loved talking about Teddy’s prowesses, and nothing could make him prouder. Elaine smiled and gestured to him to go away.

Barney replied to his mum. “Yeah, well, he was a fast one, this one! He was ten or eleven months, I’d have to confirm with my wife, but he walked earlier than Douglas, for sure. I think it was around Christmas last year, so he was--”

“He was ten months old, honey,” said a tall woman who joined the discussion, a drink and a plate full of sandwiches half-eaten in her hands. Harry supposed she was Barney’s wife and he decided at that moment there was no use trying to learn all these names. 

“Are you...?” she asked, squinting her eyes at Harry. “I’m sorry, I’m Ivone, Barney’s wife,” the woman said, putting her drink in her husband’s hand to shake Harry’s. “I heard you were Ronald’s friend, but I didn’t know you’d be here tonight! I’m happy to meet you. I mean, we all know what happened a couple of months ago and, thank you. Sincerely, thank you.”

Ginny looked at Harry, smiling encouragingly to him. Again, he tried to put a smile on his face, knowing Ivone wasn’t doing this to be annoying.

“It was nothing, I just-”

“It’s not nothing. Because of you, my kids are able to live in a safe world and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.”

“Ivone is right, it’s because of you that I’m not afraid of walking to my job every morning anymore,” Elaine affirmed, and Harry, in his discomfort, found the strength to smile.

Ginny cleared her throat. “Oh, I’m sorry Harry, but I think my brother is trying to have your attention since a couple of minutes already and it seems important. You really should go,” Ginny said, interrupting the discussion. 

She put a hand on his chest and nodded in Ron’s direction. Harry lifted his eyes, looking at Ron who was talking with Hermione and Charlie, unaware of Harry’s distress. She then turned to her family, a warm smile on her face. “How’s the job Barney? Have you obliviated a lot of people lately?”

Everyone turned to Barney, their attention on him. “Oh! Yeah! Let me tell you--” he began, his eyes twinkling, and Harry thought he heard Ivone murmuring a “Here we go” under her breath. While Barney began to explain all about his job in his department, Harry caught Ginny’s eyes, thanking her for the interruption and quickly excused himself. 

“Ron, your family is too big,” Harry said, taking his seat at their table. 

“I know, I had to make a list with all the names and links--” Hermione started to explain, and Harry applauded her passion. 

“Look, you don’t have to learn all the names, it’s fine,” Ron said, trying to reassure Harry and Hermione.

“Of course I’ll learn all of them, it’s important! Imagine if someone talks to me and I don’t know their name!” Hermione said, and Ron only kissed her cheek, smirking. 

“I’ll be there to help you.” 

Harry averted his eyes, focusing on the plate Ginny had made for him and wished she’d be there. 

They continued chatting about all and nothing, George cracking a joke here and there, when he caught Agatha and Sabrina making their way towards their table, her dress unzipped a little in the front. Harry’s eyes wided and Ron turned his head, letting out a “Ew!” when he saw his distant cousin approaching like that. 

In an instant, Ginny arrived and motioned to Harry to move a little. Without really knowing what she wanted, he took a sip of his butterbeer and then moved his chair, ready to get up, when, without any warning, she sat on his lap. 

He froze, and found himself uncertain of where to put his hands, worried to make her uncomfortable. Ginny solved his problem when she took his hands in hers, putting them around her stomach. “I’m doing my job,” she murmured to him, looking dangerously at Agatha. “Is it okay?” she then asked him, worried, and he nodded, maybe with a little too much ardor. Ron beamed at Ginny and mouthed her a “Good idea.”

“Harry, my love, can I have a chip please? Just one,” Ginny voiced, loud enough for the girls to hear. Harry eyed her curiously, knowing her plate was full of them, but shrugged. Ginny pointed to the one she wanted and it took a second for Harry to understand she wanted him to give her, and that she wouldn’t take it herself. Harry obliged, lifting the chip to her mouth, and he felt shivers coursing down his spine when he felt Ginny’s tongue licking the tip of his finger.

Ron’s eyebrows were lifted, his mouth sporting a grin, while Hermione was beaming, making thumbs up at Ginny when the girls turned on their heels, with a crestfallen face. 

“Thank you,” Harry whispered in her ear.

Ginny took another chip from his plate, a proud air on her face. Harry could have pointed out to her that her plate had some waiting to be eaten, but the gesture of her eating his food was so intimate and heartwarming that he shut his mouth, ready to give her his fork if she’d ask for it. 

He put his hands on her thighs, listening to Angelina and Ginny talking quidditch. Ron and Harry joined their discussion, sharing their opinion about who should change teams for the next season. He smiled the whole time, pressing his forehead to her shoulder blades, the Christmas music rocking him.

To his dismay, his smile vanished when he heard a tall man, Elf-made wine in hand, approaching them. 

“Look at that, isn’t it Harry Potter, our Chosen One in the flesh! What did we do to deserve your presence among us?” the man said with a haughty tone. 

Ginny turned to the man with a frown, and Harry squinted up at the man, observing him approach with a gait akin to Lucius Malfoy. Harry swallowed his annoyance, not wanting to be known as impolite and snappy. He couldn’t do that to the Weasleys, to Ginny. He wanted to be what she was looking for in a boyfriend. Even if it wasn’t real, even if it was for someone else’s life. 

“Nice to meet you,” Harry said with the best smile he could manage despite his irritation, giving his hand for the man to shake, his other hand moving to Ginny’s waist. The man didn’t make him wait, shaking it with strength, his cold and sweaty palm making Harry hide his shiver with difficulty. 

“It’s an honor, Mr. Potter. You save us, all of us, and I think we should make a toast in your honor, tonight--”

Harry blanched, realising where the man was going. “Oh no, no, please. You don’t have to. I-I wasn’t alone--”

Ron swallowed his sip of water. “I assure you, Uncle Vladimir, if you want to waste Harry’s night, that’s exactly--” Ron tried, but the man ignored him. Hermione scoffed, offended on Ron’s behalf. Everyone at the table tried to slide a word in, and Harry had to swallow the ball forming in his throat, seeing all his friends defending him, knowing exactly who he really was. 

“Nonsense! We all read about it. We know the story and what you accomplished. How you were alone in front of him, and how-” 

But Ginny cut him. “I’m sure Harry appreciates your kind words, Uncle Vladimir, but we’ll leave early, and--”

“You’re telling me you don’t want to make a toast in Harry’s honor here, after he saved your life, Ginevra? All our lives?” Harry heard the man say, and his anger flared in his stomach at the idea this man assumed he wanted this honor, and more importantly, that his friends, that Ginny owed him. He could have saved her life a million times and he’d do it again and again. He didn’t realise, really, what it meant to be Harry Potter. To have been kidnapped at fourteen to resurrect your parents’ murderer, to have seen deaths, to have heard the fear in someone’s voice, to hide, to be ready to die because there was no other valuable option possible.

Ginny crossed her arms, her face contorted under her anger and her eyes flashing. 

The man sneered at her. “I wonder what your father would think--” he began, but he was cut by a familiar voice.

“Her father is totally comfortable with that, Vlad. Harry is like a son to me. He knows how we are thankful and how we love him. He doesn’t need everyone to look at him, just to enjoy his night,” Arthur replied, his tone making clear it wasn’t discutable. 

Mrs. Weasley put her hands on Harry’s shoulders, squeezing protectively. “I thought we’d asked everyone to not bother Harry with anything about the war, Vladimir. Was I not clear enough?” 

The man gulped but then lifted his chin. 

“You asked that? It was a dismal failure then,” Ron said, loud enough for everyone to hear, shaking his head, and clearly sorry for his best friend. Angelina snorted.

“What about you come with me and try Molly’s punch? We could catch up about the promotion your wife said you just had,” Arthur said, taking Vladimir by the shoulder. Vladimir contented himself to look at Harry, and then nodded. 

Harry let go of his breath. 

“Vladimir is something else, sorry, mate,” Ron said, when his distant uncle was out of sight.

Molly hummed in acknowledgement, and then turned to Ginny in question, seeing her sitting on Harry’s laps. Harry blushed, and shifted a bit on the seat, removing his hands from Ginny’s waist. 

Unwavering, Ginny lifted an eyebrow at her mother. “What?” she asked, eating a chip from Harry’s plate. “I’m protecting him from their claws,” she added, inclining her head in her cousins’ direction. 

Molly looked at Agatha and Sabrina, who were looking at Harry without any self-restraint. Her lips became a thin line and she heaved a deep sigh. “Those two! Their parents are lovely, I wouldn’t have expected that. We’re sorry Harry, dear,” Molly said to him, clearly offended by Agatha and Sabrina’s behaviors. He shook his head in response, grinning, letting her know he was simply happy to be here with them tonight and to be given him that precious chance. 

Molly squeezed his shoulders with a tender grip, and somehow, Harry caught in the simple gesture all what she'd have wanted to mention at that moment. It was a small act, letting him know wordlessly how much she'd always look up for him and how his happiness counted for her. Licking his lips, he felt Ginny's hand grasping his.

“Now that I have you all here, I want a picture,” Molly said, taking her camera from the table. “Everyone looks at me,” she said with a loud voice. She moved in front of the table, her hand in the air and snapping her fingers to attract everyone's attention.

Harry got closer to Ginny, and couldn’t help beaming at the camera. “Charlie! Stop your silliness!” Molly groaned, and after disciplining most of her kids, took the picture. 

Satisfied, Molly turned, joining her husband, and adjusting meticulously her hat on her head.

* * *

A moment later, Ginny retook her seat next to him with a smile, crossing her legs. In her motion, her dress let show the skin of her creamy thighs and Harry tried to not let his eyes travel there for too long.

Catching one of her cousins looking at her from the corner of her eyes, Ginny lifted her hand and began caressing the bottom of Harry’s messy hair, trading her fingers in it and skimming her fingertips on his hot skin. 

The conversation Ron and George were having faded completely, becoming nothing more than an annoying buzzing. Harry closed his eyes, savouring the feeling that the light massage procured to him. 

He heard Ginny chuckled next to his ear and he opened his eyes to smile at her shyly. Her warm smile made his stomach swoop.

“I’ll just go to the loo,” she murmured in his ears and Harry gave her a soppy smile, still in a daze. He turned his head to follow the conversations around the table and noticed Ginny was still standing next to her seat, a crease between her eyebrow and her thumb on her bottom lip. 

‘What’s wrong?” Harry asked her and Ginny snapped her attention at him. 

“Oh, er, nothing. It’s just that dresses like this one don’t have pockets because someone decided somewhere that we don’t bring things with us, us women, you see?" she huffed. "So, I can’t really bring my wallet in the loo and I mean, I trust mostly everyone here but--”

“I see. Give it to me and I’ll put it in my pocket for you,” Harry proposed to her naturally. Feeling a bit hot in he crowded room, he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.

Ginny swallowed, her eyes going from Harry’s forearms to his face. “You sure?” she asked at last, perplexed.

“Well, yeah. I--” Harry answered and cleared his throat. “I heard that boyfriends are useful for that kind of thing. Apparently, they often have the task to bring their girlfriend’s things because they don’t know where to put them. Since I'm your boyfriend for the night--” he said without finishing his sentence, gesturing in the void. 

Ginny was smirking. “You heard that? Interesting. From who?”

Harry’s face flushed. “It-it was, er, Bill,” he stammered.

“So you listened to Bill,” Ginny said, as a matter-of-fact.

Harry looked at her and grunted. “Look, it’s not like I knew how to be a boyfriend, I’m a mess, Gin. So when I catch an advice here and there, I try to remember it. I’m--”

But Ginny was shaking her head, and handed him her wallet. “You’re not a mess. You were perfect tonight for someone who doesn’t know how to be a boyfriend. 10/10,” she said, and winking at him, she disappeared in the room, letting Harry muse about what she’d just admitted. 

It didn’t take long and Ginny returned, her wallet still secure in Harry’s pocket. He was experiencing a certain amount of pride to be given that duty reserved for her partner. 

She smiled at him and put her head on his shoulder, and he heard her whispering the lyrics of a song he didn’t quite catch. Harry didn’t lose a moment and put his head on hers, enjoying the quiet moment between them. His hand seemed to act on its own and began caressing her thigh, lifting up her dress even more with each move. The feeling of goosebumps he created with his fingertips on her hot skin was enough to make him light-headed.

They stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the closeness. It wasn’t exactly clear for Harry what was the actual subject of discussion between the Weasleys and he didn’t really care either. He heard in the distance some of their aunts making a joke about a Firewizard and the “jet of his big wand”, or how putting money on a bigger shower would always be a good “investment”, to which Percy apologized for the comment to his new girlfriend, the girls laughed, and Ron, agape, let out a, “Bloody hell!”

“Stop moving, someone’s trying to sleep here,” Harry mumbled in Ginny’s neck.

“Hey sleepy head, we’re having fun here,” she replied, caressing his hair with one hand and letting the fingertips on the other dance on his jaw.

He pressed tighter against her in response, a sheepish smile pasted on his lips. “Don’t care.”

Ginny giggled, her hand tenderly stroking his back, and continued her discussion with her family.

Some babies were crying and were being rocked in their grandma’s arms while other adults were drinking and chatting. Harry noticed through his skewed glasses that some people had transfigured objects into instruments and were playing folklore songs to the amazement of the kids who were dancing on them.

A thin old man with flamboyant red hair was asleep in a corner, his wand between his fingers on his stomach. Harry observed him a minute, and Ron, noticing where he was looking, explained it was his dad's favorite cousin when he was younger. Apparently, the man had the habit to fall asleep easily everywhere, something the young Weasleys found extremely funny years earlier. 

Some people went to their table, chatting with their cousins about their future projects, or about Harry and Ron’s Auror classes. Long hugs were exchanged between the members of the family, Fred’s absence planning heavily in the room. Harry stopped counting how many times Molly dried her eyes that night, always supported by some of Ginny’s aunts or uncles. 

Ron, George and Ginny started chatting with a group of younger cousins who joined them, and Harry listened, answering when a question was for him. Mentions of how Arthur was the kindest of their uncles and how Molly gave the best hugs in the family made Harry smile. 

Ginny blushed when one of her cousins made a comment about her being on Harry’s lap, but she had a snarky response to throw at her, which ended in them both cracking up in a fit of laughter. 

Eventually, Ron, Hermione, Fleur and a bunch of their cousins started playing a game of cards. Harry closed his eyes, not interested in joining them, knowing he had no idea what the rules of the game were. Cherishing Ginny’s presence at his side, her voice being like a comforting blanket, he tried to forget that their  _ show _ was coming to an end soon. 

He felt himself drifting to sleep, his body and heart warmed, imagining a little girl or a little boy with black hair dancing to the accordions.

Harry closed his eyes, cherishing Ginny’s presence at his side, and tried to forget that all their _show_ was coming to an end soon. 

He felt himself drifting to sleep, his body and heart warmed.

* * *

“Is he really asleep?” Harry heard Hermione ask someone.

His head bubbled on Ginny’s shoulder when she moved hers, and he thought hearing Ron whispering how much Harry had worked lately. Somehow, he still didn’t open his eyes, having the impression he was floating, his ears filled with cotton, and he caught only some parts of the discussion around him.

“Just let me, once. Please Ginny! For Christmas!”

“George, I said no. You touch him, and you’ll have to run like you never did,” Ginny murmured, her voice letting no place for interpretation of how bad her threat would be. He cracked an eye open, his instinct shouting at him it was best to be aware of his surroundings when George was in this mood, but he was so comfy, it closed again immediately. 

“Harry will never take revenge on me, I’m his favorite Weasley,” George said, and Ron asked him when was the last time he’d picked up Harry’s underwear from the floor then. Harry couldn’t help snorting at that. 

“It’s not Harry you have to be afraid of, dear brother,” Ginny replied, and Angelina and Hermione laughed out loud, clapping their hands together. 

“Oh, r’lly? Tell me mowe,” Charlie said, slurring a little, and Harry thought hearing Fleur quibble at him. 

“I’m ready to go,” Ginny murmured to him, shaking him out of his sleep for good. He raised his head, yawning, and, panicked, he whipped the back of his hand on his mouth, hoping he didn’t drool all over her shoulder. 

Ginny smiled at him and got up from her chair. Without thinking, he did too, still a bit in a daze, noticing the music had stopped and many people were also gathering their things, cloak on their back and telling good night. 

She eyed him with narrowed eyes, but said nothing and headed to the cloakroom. Harry followed her, unsure of what he did to deserve that. 

They exited the tiny room quickly after, their cloaks on their backs, bidding goodbyes to everyone and wishing a good year. Harry took a longer moment to thank Molly and Arthur for their invitation, to which he received a stern look and a pat on his cheek. “You’d better come next year too, and I don’t want to have to convince you, Harry!”

Following her comment, Mrs. Weasley invited him to sleep at the Burrow, wanting him with them the next day for Christmas dinner. “It would be convenient, dear! You sure?” she asked him when he replied he had some things to do at Grimmauld. Ron profited from a moment of silence to tell Harry, Hermione, and himself would follow him in five, Hermione gesturing towards the buffet and reminded him to not forget their plate.

Ginny and him left the ballroom, saluting Theresa, and then passing a broom closet, sharing a laugh, and thinking of Agatha. 

They stayed in a comfortable silence until they got to the floo. 

He didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want it to be a lie. He didn’t want to wake up tomorrow, craving her scent and the feeling of her pressing against him. 

Tonight, he’d realized how she was worth it. And that he could trust her being able to handle everything that would come with being his girlfriend. 

They arrived at the floo, and he noticed that Ginny shuffled her feet on the ground.

Harry exhaled, searching for the right words, for the best way to explain to her that she was the first person who had really allowed him to feel important enough to hope he was worthy of something good, soft, and beautiful. Just for once. 

He searched for the words to make her understand that for years, he had this profound sensation he’d always shared a special bond with her, something proper to them. More than ever, he had the vivid need to learn everything about her like nobody ever did, to know every inch of her body and of her soul. He wanted to stop fighting what was there for a long time, a vision in his mind of her bright eyes before dying bursting in his head like a radiant spark he couldn’t try to omit anymore. 

The signs had always been there, like a lighthouse indicating him the way towards a possible blissful happiness, one he should have listened to so long ago.

But Harry had no bloody idea how to make her understand, even less knowing if she was even interested to hear it.

“You didn’t have to leave, you could have stayed there,” Ginny finally said, breaking the silence, her eyes boring into his. 

He put his hands in his pocket, and tried to not think of how beautiful she looked muffled up in her big woolen scarf, feeling like his heart was trying to burst through his chest by the impossibility to trail his fingers on her arms. “Oh, erm, I know,” he said with a shrug. “I was tired too and I guess that if we wanted to be credible, I had to leave with you,” he told her, an attempt of a smile on his lips. Ginny merely lifted the corner of her mouth, and shrugged in return.

He passed a hand in his hair, gathering enough courage to finally form his words, feeling the fingers of his other hand flex in a fist under his internal agitation. “Erm, you know, there’s that Ministry Ball. I- I think your parents are going and I was wondering, well, thinking about--”

Wincing, he looked over her shoulder, unable to form a sensible thought, a crease now taking place between his eyebrows.

She was the person who, in one night, had made him dream, hope, and envision the possibility of being in a relationship despite all the future pitfalls associated with his life and statue. The girl who had made him understand how good it was to have a romantic partner, who made him comprehend how he starved it, how he craved to be loved by someone -- _her_ \-- and who left him in a point of no return.

Like the lantern illuminating his life, chasing the fog of his darker thoughts, Ginny had always been the beam of light Harry had always searched for around him, the simple vision of her in a busy crowd brightened his day at any moment.

More importantly, there was no doubt in his mind that she was the only person he’d be able to trust enough to let in, and who he wanted to choose every day over and over again. It was instinctive and easy with her: he didn’t have to lie, to twist the story, to try to be someone he wasn’t because she already knew all of him: from his history, one being tightly intertwined with hers, to his torturous demons incapacitating him some nights. To his facial expressions the emotions connected to it to some of the most precious moments he’d lived in his fairly short life. 

And yet, he felt like he still had so much to tell her, and he was ready to spend nights and days sharing a little part of him he’d always felt a discomfort to do so. There was so much he’d wanted to share with someone but never found the desire to do it until then, until Ginny.

There was something raw, magnetic between them. He couldn’t be the only one to feel it. It was strong, unbreakable, unique even. 

And really, it made so much sense now. 

Since they were kids, he’d always cared for her and for her well-being, ready to defend her and protect her wherever they were, whatever it took. 

Heretofore, he’d fought this ardent pull between them, one he knew he’d been affected by for years already. At this moment, staring at the lights flickered in her iris, he’d decided that this masquerade had lasted long enough, knowing with firmity he’d give up the eternity to be able to spend another time in her arms. 

“Aren’t you going with Ron and Hermione?”

Ginny’s words cut his train of thoughts, and he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. “No, I don’t want to go with them. I mean, they’ll be there and I’ll see them. What I’m trying to say is that,” he said, and then licked his lips, feeling his mouth dry. “I’d like to go with you. If you want to, of course.”

Ginny tilted her head on the side, searching to read his face. “That’s a pity, I’m sure Ron will be disappointed to not dance with you.”

“I’ll keep him a dance if he really wants,” Harry laughed, feeling the heaviness in the atmosphere lighten a little. 

Bold, Harry shifted in a breath, taking a step towards Ginny. Their nose could have touched and his heart hammered in his chest like never before. Somehow though, it wasn’t uncomfortable or unsettling, and a certain determination overtook him. 

Ginny sent him a wicked smile. “I hope. I’d be ready to put a lot of money for a picture of that.” 

“And I’d put a lot of money to destroy it,” Harry replied with a winning smile.

Ginny faked a gasp. “You wouldn’t. That’s not fair!”

Harry grinned. “Try me.” 

The atmosphere sobered at once, and Harry nearly lost his nerve, ready to make a fool of himself by stuttering stupidities and vague incomprehensible sentences. 

Ginny breathed through her nose after a moment, and Harry couldn’t stop staring at the tip of her tongue, moisturizing her lips. “I-I guess I can protect you there too, at the Ministry ball I mean, in case Agatha or Romilda would be there,” she whispered, her breath now warming his chin. 

Harry looked deep into her eyes, feeling that intense connection --that _pull_ \-- again. “Could I protect you too, then?” he said in a breath, his voice sounding rougher than he’d intended, and then took her small hands in his. “You know, from all the guys who realised how perfect you are and always have been? I’m sure some are quicker than me,” he finished with a shy chuckle, his heart drumming against his rib cages.

Searching the meaning of his words, Ginny’s eyes were shining, the Christmas lights reverberating into them. “Harry-”

But she never finished her sentence, because Harry kissed her, his lips grazing hers, trying to put all he was unable to explain properly into his messy kiss. He felt her smile against his mouth, and joyful, the force of his exaltation breaking his restraint, the barriers he had built, he deepened the kiss, being rewarded with the same enthusiasm from Ginny. His blood hummed through his veins in complete pleasure, in relief, the sweet scent of her hair engulfing him agonizingly. In an instant, he felt the world blurred around him, his head being gripped by an agreeable dizziness, overwhelming his whole-being by the force of it. 

Clutching her cloak in his hands and pulling her closer to him, he let the taste of her tongue intoxicated him, relishing in the feel of her fingers in his hair, of her breath on his lips, on her body pressed tightly against his. 

Harry had come to their family reunion with nothing in mind, apart the intense fear of not belonging there. Yet, now with Ginny in his arms and her laugh echoing to his heart, he’d never felt more at home, more at the right place. 

He couldn’t have hoped for a more magical Christmas. 

  
  



End file.
